My Dad

My brother really captured a lot of who my dad was in his eulogy at the funeral on Saturday, but I wanted to include a post on here in remembrance of what my dad meant to me.  There are things he taught me and things I inherited from him.  One that I'm sure I inherited was his ability to organize.  My family, in one of our light-hearted moments after his death, were laughing about how meticulous he was with keeping files and paperwork (he could tell you the price of gas per mile 5 years ago).  I slightly volunteered the fact that I, too, am just as meticulous.  Files for everything, computer spreadsheets, money software, etc.  I learned a lot from him about saving/managing money and spending it wisely.  In the last couple of years I had asked him for advice on investing.  Financial brokers had their recommendations, but you knew his advice was for your benefit and came from experience and lots of research.

He loved to garden when I was growing up and had large, prosperous vegetable gardens.  He would watch "The Joy of Gardening" on television and peruse gardening books for advice on how to grow healthy and prolific plants.  When I moved into my own house with a yard, I was excited to be able to have my own garden.  He was always willing to help with any physical work or advice I needed.  He helped Brian make the raised boxes; he watered and picked vegetables for us if we went on vacation; he helped prepare the garden bed with us that we had at my parents' house; he spent hours collecting and drying marigold seeds from the marigolds that we had planted in last year's garden so that I would have plenty to plant around this year's garden; he helped to teach me about canning and preserving the produce; and he just recently (a week before he died) researched for me on how to deter squirrels from eating the corn that was almost ready to harvest.  I loved sharing this hobby with him and am going to miss his help and advice immensely.

My brother mentioned in his eulogy that for my dad, "the thought was the appeal of the hobby."  Whatever he was interested in or whatever his family was interested in, he spent a lot of time learning or thinking about it.  He was never one to "settle" for or put in the least amount of effort.  When my siblings and I put together our 4-H projects when we were younger, he taught us how to really learn about them and reflect that, not to just throw something together to get it done.  He never made us feel as if we were incapable of doing anything...he was always teaching and encouraging.  

I will always be thankful for the hours and hours of video recording he did for our family of all of our music concerts, plays, sporting events, and family events and vacations.  After years of sitting on VHS and camcorder tapes, I spent one winter a couple years ago converting all of them to a digital format.  The memories were endless and brought us a lot of laughter and fun.  He was proud of our accomplishments and really enjoyed watching us reach them.

I wish my dad was around longer in order for his grandchildren to be able to learn from him the way my siblings and I did.  However, God felt his work on earth was complete and it was time for him to go home.  My dad's teachings and love will now be passed on through his children and hopefully continue on through many generations after that.  As my sisters and I were driving up to my parents' lake house to be with my mom the day he died, we were driving amongst thunderstorms, which my dad loved.  Off to the east, we all saw a beautiful rainbow.  I knew right then that God was telling us that my dad was fine and we were going to be fine.  My brother and sister-in-law started their journey north a couple hours later due to having to fly back from their job locations.  They, too, drove through thunderstorms and saw a rainbow.  "God is our refuge and strength", to quote a portion of Psalm 46.  Knowing my dad has moved on to God's glorious place of eternal life and that God will protect the rest of us until we get there, too, makes my heart feel at peace and full of happiness.  Until we meet again, Dad...